


Willing & Able

by headbuttingbears



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Begging, Fluff and Angst, Fucking Machines, I'm Sorry, Other, Pre-Movie(s), Sex Toys, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5775142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headbuttingbears/pseuds/headbuttingbears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>To maximize intimate fun between you and your-</i> "I do not remember ordering this." | Poe Dameron faces the consequences of some midnight drunk shopping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Willing & Able

**Author's Note:**

> Set in some vague time before TFA.
> 
> While I will admit to looking up a variety of things on Wookieeepedia, I will also admit that there are some things I just don't give a damn about. So inaccuracies are likely, especially since I included a number of little details I've seen around the internet that I'm fond of.
> 
> I wish I could place the blame on Jenny for this idea the way I have so many times in the past, but it would be both misplaced and unkind. This is all on me. I'm sorry. That said, you shouldn't have encouraged me.
> 
> Title from Nick Waterhouse's "Ain't There Something Money Can't Buy."

BB-8 noticed the box before he did and sped eagerly towards it.

"Huh." Poe nudged the box with the toe of his boot when he reached it, thinking hard as he toweled his hair dry, still wet from the refresher at the gym. Roughly one by three feet, brown, unmarked but for a number of shiny intergalactic postage marks and strips of translucent packing tape. Sitting in front of his door with a _Sorry we missed you!_ holo floating above it, emitted by one of the numerous XTS cargo stamps covering the box's face.

Rounding it, BB chirped excitedly up at him.

"Really?" He let his towel drop around his neck and crouched down to tilt the box over so he could see the sheets of flimsiplast sealed to the side of the box, his name and address in tidy standard beneath the sender's name: JABRIEL. "I don't remember ordering anything."

BB tapped the box with its body so it rocked against Poe's hand, a faint rattle issuing from inside.

"Obviously." Left with no other choice, he pressed his thumb to the active XTS stamp to complete the delivery before gathering the box up under his arm and letting himself into his small apartment, BB following close behind.

As he changed into clean clothes, Poe struggled to remember what he'd ordered this time. He was constantly changing or upgrading different parts and peripherals on BB-8 – that was half the fun of having a droid. BB had come with a default set of attachments, but as it had never been meant for astromech work he'd stripped most of them at the outset. Not that BB had seemed to mind – quite the opposite. It had seemed excited at the prospect of such extreme customization. Maps, hyperspace routes, small tools for delicate work on the fighter in case of emergency repairs, useful bits and pieces Poe had learned the hard way he'd need. He'd even tweaked BB's programming a bit, just to pass inspection – some inclinometric and telemetric code he'd written himself, back when he'd still been struggling with regular astromechs. Enough that no one could say BB-8 _couldn't_ do the flight calculations. Nobody needed to know it _didn't_ do them.

In that first year they'd been together, BB had come to regard deliveries from Jabriel with as much anticipation as he did, maybe more. But they'd waned as years had passed and they'd grown closer to the perfect set of gadgets for their work, and now he hardly ever ordered anything unless it was an upgrade. He couldn't resist upgrades.

But when-

BB-8 let out a series of beeps as it sat nudging the box where he'd set it down between his bed and the small desk.

"No, I- Did I?" He scratched fingers through his damp hair, the vaguest memory from weeks ago floating up to the surface of his mind. He'd been grounded for a few days – repairs – and it had only taken a few hours to leave him bored to distraction. A couple of drinks at the cantina, time off to kick back in front of the holonet and channel-surf… "Shit, I totally did, didn't I? I thought I told you not to let me order things off the shopping net in the middle of the night anymore!"

BB-8 rolled up and trilled at him defensively.

"I did _not_ deliberately wait for you to-"

A far more accusatory set of beeps, followed by a fuzzy audio recording of what was definitely his voice, chipper and slightly slurred: _Buddy! There -_ hic - _there you are! Where ya been? Now, I-I know I told you not to let me -_ hic – _lemme do this again, but you gotta- you gotta lemme do this. Future me will totally thank future you later. In like- like- three to six standard weeks. I think that's a six. Does that look like a six to you?_

Poe rubbed the back of his neck, wincing. "Alright, okay, maybe I did."

 _Maybe_ he did? BB stared up at him as judgmentally as a droid was capable of being. Which was very.

"Fine, fine," he sighed, waving BB ahead of him. "Let's see what we've got."

He let BB-8 do the honors, slicing through the tape with its laser-cutter faster than he could say _knife_. One of the first attachments he'd bought, and probably one of his better investments.

Tape cut, Poe leaned forward in his chair and pulled open the top flaps of the box open to reveal an ocean of curly bright violet foam pieces. _This many has got to violate the laws of physics somehow_ , he thought as he shoveled them out onto the floor to BB's delight. As the pile grew and grew, he almost wished for a moment that he'd left the vacuum attachment on the droid, but then he saw the first object in the box and he promptly stopped caring.

"Oh, wow." He fished the small box out and glanced at it before turning it over. _Self-starting windproof-_ "A better lighter!" He held it out for BB to examine. "That's handy, right?"

He brushed some foam bits aside and set it down on the floor for BB-8 to look over as he resumed digging through the box. Soon enough the droid had a small mountain of boxes to chirp over – an improved flashlight (with adjustable beams and brightness levels at last, they should've done that from the start in his opinion), a dozen emergency thermal blankets that were folded small enough to fit in the smallest of the droid's drawers (BB had never lost its paranoid streak since that time he'd run out of fuel and spent a rather chilly night on an abandoned lunar outpost), another medkit ("Guess I can't blame you this time for the bacta patches with shiny hearts on them, can I?"), a refill bottle of sprayable adhesive, and a corkscrew. A corkscrew? Whatever. So far, so good.

There was another bottle in the box; Poe picked it up, thinking it must be more adhesive, but at a glance he knew that couldn't be true. It was clear instead of blue, for starters, and-

"What the hell?" He blinked. _Cosmoglide_?

BB-8 beeped insistently up at him, only growing more curious when he didn't hold it out for its consideration like he had everything else.

"Shh," Poe said absently, eyes widening as he read the label over. _To maximize intimate fun between you and your-_ "I do not remember ordering this." The impatient beeping, growing louder with every tone, reminded him he wasn't alone. Face hot, he stretched over to set it aside on his desk, deliberately out of BB's range. "Nosy," he said when he got a stream of entitled beeps in response. "That's none of your business."

He rummaged again in the box, worried about further discoveries. Another bottle, this time containing a high-quality oil bath. That kind of made sense. "Of course you'd like that," he said when BB-8 was pacified by this offering, but his face still felt hot. Lube for him, lube for the droid? Logical, sure, but still kind of weird. What did he need lube for? It wasn't as though he were out running around like a _criblez_ during a party week.

Even if he'd wanted to, he didn't have the time. He had more important things to do. Like conduct surveillance sweeps, collect intelligence from Outer Rim sources, lead attack runs on First Order cruisers, and handle any other death-defying mission General Organa threw at him.

And even if he'd _wanted_ to, none of it matched up to the kind of rush he got from being in the cockpit, pulling some serious Gs on a mid-air turn that shouldn't have worked but did, or doing the calculations in his head necessary for a FTL jump that would be the difference between living and getting blown to bits in a dogfight. That surge of adrenaline, the sweet taste of victory, cutting it razor-close and knowing it – better than any sex he'd ever had.

And _even if he'd wanted to_ he was… out of practice. Sure, he knew how people looked at him – you couldn't be blind _and_ fly an X-Wing. And, yeah, he knew how to flirt – it frequently got him bumped up the repair roster. But at some point in his life he'd forgotten how to get past that. Probably around the same time he'd started funneling all his energy into getting his own squad instead of… in other directions. Being a pilot, flying – there was more sky out there than people to love you. Space wouldn't leave you, the way Solo had left Leia. Space couldn't die, the way his mother had, the way so many of the people he'd grown up with had. Resistance airmen had short lifespans nowadays. He wouldn't do that to someone.

And besides, space just _was_. Always waiting in a way people wouldn't, and he felt at home there in a way he'd never really felt with any person he'd met so far.

So yeah, spit and his own hand did him just fine. He'd just contact the company, ask for a refund-

BB-8 bumped the box, beeping.

"Right, sorry," Poe said, shaking off the uncharacteristic glumness before plunging his hand back into the box to feel blindly through the last of the foam curlicues to check if there was anything remaining inside. He felt the sharp edge of another plastic container and frowned, dragging his fingers along its rectangular shape. Longer than the others, it squeaked a bit as he dragged it up – it was very nearly the same length as the box. A _very_ tight fit – whatever it was had to collapse or else it would never fit in BB-8.

Static must have been responsible for the clumps of foam sticking to BB's sides as, eager as usual, it bumped the box a second time so he lost his grip on the mystery object.

"Hey!" His glare sent the droid apologetically wheeling backward through the foam pieces, stirring them up like a cloud on Bespin, and the sight softened his annoyance immediately. "Just keep your… dome… on," he trailed off, staring down into the box.

 _The Great Zeltron Man-Maker_ , read the packaging, the last item lying askew in the box, and it had to be the last. There wasn't room for anything else, and this-

_Man-Maker?_

"I do _not_ remember ordering this," he said a second time, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at… it.

A soft whirring noise as BB-8 crept forward, and he tried futilely to shove the thing down flat in the box, reaching out to cover BB's photoreceptor at the same time.

"No, no, no, that's not for you," he said, twisting back and forth, legendary hand-eye coordination failing him as he struggled to prevent the droid from seeing. "It's- No, it's not a _surprise_ , not everything is- When did you get so greedy?" Yelped when the droid 'accidentally' nudged the box hard enough to tip it over between his legs, sending the contents spilling out faster than his sharp reflexes could stop them.

"Oh no," he said, hand dropping into thin air as BB spun back and around and behind him to see what had shaken loose. At the sound of a thoughtful series of clicks and beeps, Poe slapped that same hand over his own eyes.

More beeps.

"Yeah, I noticed the color too. Very realistic."

An optimistic warbling.

"No, I'm not turning it over so you can read the back! There is no back for _you_ to read," he said, face feeling like the surface of a red dwarf getting ready to go supernova. "That's not _for_ you."

He didn't need to uncover his eyes to know when BB-8 circled back around to look at him head-on as it beeped at him.

"No, it's not for me either," Poe said. "It- Oh, we both know you're logic-based, you don't have to remind me! Look, it must've been a mistake. Like they- Maybe I got part of someone else's order, or- Yes, I _know_ that's never happened before, I'm just saying maybe it did this time!"

Ever helpful, BB-8 tapped the exposed bottom of the box and reminded him of the flimsi packing list and receipt stuck to the side.

 

  * People lube
  * Droid lube
  * Great Zeltron Man-Maker
  * Shipping & handling



Having reached the end of the list, Poe read it a second time, hoping it would jog his memory. He flipped to the next page, did the math on the total, and- Fuck, he totally ordered this. He'd been billed for all of it. Half of it had been on sale. He'd ordered it. Why-

He looked from the flimsi to the violently magenta box.

 _It's time to separate men from boys_ , it exclaimed. _Are you ready for it?_

No more drunk shopping. At least he hadn't bought any decals or streamers again.

A curious set of beeps rose from where BB waited beside him.

"I was right, it was a mistake," he said again. "It's not on the list."

If BB-8 knew he was lying – and there was no way the droid didn't know he was lying, it could read his body temperature and pulse and all other sorts of normally cool things – it wisely didn't say anything. But then, its learning capabilities had been a selling point.

"I'll just… contact customer service and send it back," he said, setting the flimsi on top of the box and pushing it further back on the desk. "Later. After we've cleaned this up."

BB-8 whirred sadly, doing one last lap through the curly purples and sending them flying. At least half drifted through the air to cling to its head.

"No, we're not keeping this stuff," he laughed, embarrassment evaporating in the face of the droid's raw charm. Why wasn't its shielding dispersing the static? _Something else to take care of later_ , he thought, brushing the foam pieces off the droid's head. "I should've left you the vacuum, this happens every time."

 

Poe Dameron didn't consider himself a habitual liar: he'd meant it when he'd said he'd send it back. But things… kept cropping up. Like after they got the foam cleaned up, General Organa had commed him for an impromptu mission. And then the Republic had had some trouble with pirates again, and then there'd been a prisoner exchange to supervise, and and and.

And he… forgot.

And was reminded anew every time he set foot in his apartment, and was greeted by the sight of that box waiting on his desk. He'd actually slapped his forehead the last time like some sort of kids' toon.  _Yikes!_ Really intent on doing something about it, but-

Something came up. Something always came up.

 _Something was_ always _coming up_ , Poe thought as he dragged himself into his apartment, BB-8 trailing quietly behind him and beeping when he belly-flopped onto his low bed. The droid hassling him was the only reason he bothered to shrug off the sleeves of his flight suit, shove it down around his waist, but that wasn't enough for BB, who nudged his still-booted feet where they protruded over the side of the bed.

"No, I don't care," he mumbled, face planted in his pillow, coordinates and calculations still flickering brightly through his head. "I'm leavin' them on, I don't care."

BB rolled up along the side of the bed until it was even with his head, chirping softly.

"Don't even think about cutting them off," Poe groaned, and rolled onto his side, twisting so he could fumble first one and then the other boot off, letting them clunk to the floor. "Happy?"

BB-8 shoved them out of the way, beeping reassurances the whole time.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he said, rolling his eyes as he rolled onto his back. The droid had already turned the lights off, but his night vision was good as ever as he laid there, staring. The faint crack between ceiling tiles, the curve of a light fixture, the ambient glow from the cooling unit, and Poe realized with a deep sigh of frustration that he was, impossibly, too tired to sleep. He'd been on the hop for weeks, shuttling around refugees with barely enough time to catch his breath, and now that he was finally horizontal he couldn't manage to stop all the various gears from turning in the machine he called his brain.

He laid there for a while longer, hopeful that if he was just _still_ long enough that his body would remember that this position was supposed to mean sleep, but no luck, and at last he hauled himself up and shoved his flight suit all the way down.

"No, don't worry about it," he whispered to BB-8 when it started forward from its charging station. "Just takin' a shower." Maybe that would relax him.

 

It didn't, no matter how hot he turned the water up or what pattern he set it to pulsing against his back, shoulders aching from the jump seat harness. Steam curled around him, bare feet flat and unmoving on the wet floor of the 'fresher, yet it still felt like he was hurtling along at the speed of light. Couldn't stop thinking of that last jump, the way that TIE fighter had screeched toward him. Close, too close, and with a freighter full of refugees it hadn't been just his neck on the line, but he'd been faster than them as always and-

And one day he wouldn't be.

He clenched his eyes shut, feeling the massage of recycled water against his upper back, wishing it could lull him to sleep. No good – the numbers against the back of his eyelids wouldn't go away. Distances, yaw and pitch, how many passengers he'd had on board – how many people he'd saved – and he wrapped a hand around his cock and stroked it loosely, sucking his bottom lip. Thinking of the medal ceremony General Organa had joked about after he'd made his report; when he'd been younger the mere daydream of that had been more than enough to get him going. But now, even after he tightened his grip, moved his fist a bit faster, it only left him more frustrated. Too tired to sleep, too tired to jerk off, and now there was this _itch_  under his skin…

Poe slapped his hand against the dial, turning the water off, and stepped out, grabbed for his towel. No sonics or full-body air-drying here, they did things the old-fashioned way. When he wandered out into the dimly-lit room with his towel wrapped around his hips to sit morosely at his desk, he was still half-hard and irritated, dripping on the discarded clothes slung over the back of the chair.

 _Approach with caution!_ said the box – he could make it out clearly in the low lighting. Dusty now, the flimsiplast drooped over one side. Lucky he never had anyone over; he'd left it sitting out in plain sight, albeit turned around.

_Are you ready to be satisfied?!_

He smoothed a hand over his thigh, barely felt it thanks to the thick material of the damp towel that covered it.

 _NOT for the novice or inexperienced,_  he saw on the front once he pushed the box around with a finger. _One Zeltron-style party with the Man-Maker will guarantee you never feel the same_ -

A beep, close by, made him jump, sent BB-8 rolling back in mild alarm.

"You just crept up on me, that's all." He was blushing again, like he'd been caught looking at dirty vids. Kind of had been.

The droid's head swiveled from him to his desk before it issued a series of interrogative beeps.

"I meant to, I did, I just- What?" He looked down in shock at BB. "No, I don't want to- Because that's- I'm not- I did _not_ lie, I just- I am not- Look, I'm just not interested, alright?"

BB-8 cocked its head, its earlier stream of confused chatter slower now as it focused on the basics.

"Well, yeah, sometimes, if you do it right, I guess, but I'm not- Wait, what?" Poe's eyebrows felt like they were right up around his hairline as the droid rolled closer, near enough to press its warm metal body against his bare knee as it beeped up at him.

"I don't need your help," he said weakly. He wasn't- he wasn't one of _those_ people. He was more than capable of finding someone alive, someone _willing_ -

As if it could read his mind, BB-8 gently tapped his knee with its head, then looked pointedly up at the desk.

"It hasn't been _that_ long," he muttered, drawn quite against his will into consideration of the box. _Man-Maker._ Fuck. Had he _really_ forgotten to send it back?

The telltale rise and fall of beeps as BB offered to calculate when exactly the last time he'd gotten laid made him snap, "No, I don't need the reminder, thanks." The droid was all sweetness and light like usual but he swore sometimes it did things just to needle him. Typical droid sadism that he thought he'd lucked out of avoiding.

Poe looked back at his desk, the bottle of Cosmoglide sitting squat and inviting. BB-8 had already gotten plenty of use out of its own lubricant, why shouldn't he? He'd paid for it, after all.

He heaved a sigh as he got up. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," he said, BB rolling back excitedly.

 

It was easier if he closed his eyes.

Cheek pressed to the mattress, the sheet wrinkling in his loose left fist, he kept his breathing steady as the fingers of his right hand worked quickly. Cosmoglide, he discovered, was worth the price: odorless and self-warming, it matched his body temperature almost immediately. Which was good because if he had any cause to wait he wouldn't be able to do this. Instead he moved fast, on his knees and bent over his bed, fingers smearing lube over his asshole and pushing in before he could think twice. Because if he thought twice he wouldn't be able to do this.

 _This_ being-

Sighing deeply, he pushed two fingers in deep, curled them as he pulled them back out slowly, striving to focus on the sensation instead of thinking. Shoved them back in, hard the way he'd always liked and hadn't gotten in so long. Too long if he was really willing to do this, and as good as _this_ was he knew it would be better when- Oh God.

"Okay. Okay, c'mere," he said breathlessly, slipping his fingers free and gesturing to BB-8. It rolled promptly forward, and he laughed helplessly at the ridiculous sight. He bit his lip as he fumbled the bottle of lube to squirt some in his hand before gripping the dildo, sliding his fist up it. Did it have to be so- so- _pink?_ And thick?

BB beeped a question.

"Nothing," he said, but when that wasn't enough: "You clash."

The droid's head swiveled to regard its new magenta appendage as Poe slicked it up before it looked at the rest of its body, chirping to itself.

"No, it doesn't- Never mind, good enough," he said, turning back around. It would have to be good enough, he wasn't giving his droid a handjob for a microsecond longer. Steeling himself, he shuffled back on his knees, chest braced against the edge of the bed, glad it was so low to the ground, and reached back to hold himself open. Closed his eyes when he said, "Okay. Just… ease in. Slow and steady." Almost said _stop when I say stop, go when I say go_ but he knew that would've been solely for his benefit. BB-8 didn't need a refresher on basic commands, even if this was a very unusual set of circumstances. It wasn't stupid.

As demonstrated by how it gave him a soft warning beep before-

"Oh." His eyes shot open as the tip of the silicone cock pushed against him. Slowly, the way he'd ordered, it eased in, advancing by what felt like millimeters. His breathing grew shakier as the flared head spread him open, wider than his own fingers had managed; it felt like an eternity passed before it was properly inside him.

"Just-just go halfway," he said, remembering how long it was, knowing BB would have it precise. "And-and a little faster."

A soft beep from behind him; the pace picked up incrementally, became almost believably human, and he did his best to relax as the smooth girth stretched him wide.

Five inches. It was just supposed to be five inches, he thought wildly as it slid in, taking forever. There was no way that was just five inches, it had to be more- His fingers spasmed, squeezed his ass deep as he shifted his knees, BB beeping in concern behind him before it stopped moving altogether.

"Is that- Oh God," he said, leaning heavily against the bed, trying to adjust. _Not for the novice or inexperienced_ the box had warned, and maybe he should've listened to the warnings for once. "Okay." Out of necessity, he dropped one hand so he could wipe the sweat out of his eyes with his bare arm. "Okay. Now just… back out. Not all the way," he said, closing his eyes again, face burning at the thought of who – _what_ – he was instructing. "A-a little faster."

A curious beep.

"Gonna have to go a little faster than that, buddy," he said, trying not to stutter, mouth dropping open as BB-8 complied. Out, out, out, and then a pause as the head tugged at him – "Ah" – only to push back in. But- "Little faster."

That long slide in, full as before, tempo picking up, and he didn't have to tell the droid to repeat the motion because it knew from reading his vital signs, his rising heartbeat, body temperature, all those fun things, that it was on the right track. Or maybe it was simple observation of the way he sagged against the bed and groaned that told it to keep going, back and forth. But after a few suspiciously slower strokes it wasn't enough anymore; if BB-8 had been a person, he would've thought he was being toyed with on purpose.

"Bit deeper," he whispered, knowing BB's sensors would pick it up. "Faster."

The droid adjusted at once, the way it did every time he urged it on. _Faster, deeper, harder,_ Poe would gasp, only to groan happily moments later as his every command was followed instantly. No hesitation, no smugness or judgment to deal with as he slumped half on the bed, both hands free now to twist up the sheets as he moaned. He only had to ask.

"Oh, oh fuck." Rocking with the droid's strokes, he clenched tight around the thick synthetic dick as it slid out. "C'mon, harder. Please, just- I need it," he said, pushing his ass back for more, voice cracking as he begged the way he hadn't in years. No possible way BB-8 could know that, not that it made him feel any less desperate, less pathetic as he whined: "Please, please- You were right, it's been so long, I- You gotta give it to me. Gimme the whole thing, c'mon-"

Skeptical beeping interrupted him, the sort that confirmed the droid _had_ been holding back a couple of critical inches.

"No, I can take it, really, just- Please, _faster_ \- Oh _fuck!_ " He shoved his face into the mattress and groaned his satisfaction long and loud over the inescapable noisy whir of machinery working as the droid pounded him. Relentless and deliciously inhuman, its strokes were so fast they made his head spin, so deep he could taste every magenta inch. The obscene wet sound of the dildo pushing in and out of his body made him sweat harder, thighs tensing and body shaking with every thrust.

One hand planted on the bed to steady himself, Poe snaked his other hand between his legs. Did little more than cup his leaking cock, smear sticky precome over the head and thumb it before he came so hard his vision grayed out. That last part was familiar, like pulling too many vertical Gs. But he never passed out then and he didn't now, though it felt like his brain was leaking out his ears as BB-8 continued to fuck him, and for long spine-tingling minutes he couldn't manage to get all systems operational long enough to say _stop_. When he finally did get the word out it was such a stuttered mess that he was sure BB halted solely out of concern rather than from any explicitly perceived command to cease and desist.

Unfortunately it stopped on the inward stroke.

"Out," he croaked, licking his lips and blinking hard. The sweaty hair stuck to his forehead could just stay there. He didn't care. " _Slowly_."

Fast might've been better – he couldn't help the whimper as BB drew back, and the droid halted, again trilling concern.

"I'm fine," he said, sheet twisted up in his fist, forehead braced on his arm. "I'll _be_ fine once you're- Ah! Oh, damn." That last whispered out on the edge of a ragged sigh as the droid pulled free at last, and Poe slumped forward, boneless against the bed. His knees were killing him, but other than that- "Fuck _me_."

BB-8, the brat, actually gave him a sticky poke in the side.

"Figure of speech, you pervert." Glancing over his shoulder felt like lifting an old Imperial cruiser using brute strength, but he managed it. And started to snigger, low, body shaking with it. Or maybe those were aftershocks. He wasn't sure. It was something though. Just like the sight of BB sitting there with all ten glistening magenta inches of synthetic cock lowered and needing a wash was _something_.

Guess he wasn't returning it after all.

"Gimme a minute to regain feeling in my limbs," he said, wiping his trembling hand clean on the sheet before reaching out to pat BB's domed head. He'd thought he'd been tired before… Hauling himself up to lie on his stomach on the extremely wrinkled sheets was almost beyond him, but he managed it. "Just a minute, and then I'll get you cleaned up."

BB-8 knew he meant it, but the droid also knew when Poe Dameron made a promise he couldn't keep. So down again went the lights, and as he murmured, "Later," into the scrunched up mass of pillow under his face, BB was left to tackle a new problem on its own.

The new attachment impeded forward movement.

BB knew it could simply rotate its body on the horizontal axis and then proceed to the refresher without further difficulty, but it also wanted to perform an experiment. Namely if it could successfully shoot this attachment into the sink.

A quick check to make sure Poe was sound asleep - the presence of drool confirmed that - and BB shifted slightly to the side. Lined up the shot and- _Bullseye!_  as Poe would say. It was excellent at judging distance, thanks to some of the earliest modifications Poe had made. All the changes he'd made were useful ones, in BB-8's opinion, which made them good, though it wasn't sure about the purpose of the vibration function on this particular accessory.

It would ask Poe to explain later, it decided, rolling away from the snoring human to its station to recharge. As soon as he woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> Like do they even have a God in Star Wars? I don't care. I almost cried when I saw all the different kinds of paper, please just let me live.
> 
> Thanks to a friend for the Cosmoglide name. The other suggestions were good, but I'm sure someone else will do greater justice to "Slick Uranus" than I ever could.


End file.
